


Sandstorm

by Thorinsmut



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Blowjobs, Complete, M/M, Nwalin Week, Secret Identities, Sex in the Dark, Smut, sandstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1595828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Nwalin week prompt: Before the Quest. </p><p>Dwalin was traveling in the south and met a stranger who saved his life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sandstorm

.

Dwalin sat poking at the campfire, watching, and he was not _sure_.

Nori, the self-proclaimed 'shifty brother', teased Dori by pretending he was going to teach Ori illegal skills, laughing and dancing just out of reach when Dori grabbed for him.

And Dwalin wasn't sure.

. .

The southern winter was just as miserable as their summer, just less hot. The temperatures that were manageable during the day dropped immediately to freezing when the sun set. The wind wormed its way into the warmest layers.

The sand was the worst. It got everywhere.

Dwalin had sworn he'd never guard anybody in the south after the first deadly-hot summer he spent there, and as they made their way back north to decent climes he swore he'd never guard anyone there during the winter again either.

Dwalin kept his head down, focusing on his restless pony, sunk in his misery. He didn't pay much mind to the single rider on the pony that was coming up fast behind them. There wasn't much a single Dwarf could do against their group, even if they _were_ a small group and shorthanded.

The stranger's pony was frothed and lathered with sweat, riding hard, and only lightly packed. The Dwarf on it's back was covered so only his eyes showed, dark-rimmed with kohl and wide watching their little group as he galloped past.

The ponies snorted, tossing their heads in their desire to follow.

He didn't get far past them, the stranger, before he turned his tired pony to face them.

“Do you have anywhere to hide from it?” he called back, his voice high and nervous – almost an edge of panic in it. He didn't seem to have the accent of these lands, but neither did he have any Dwalin could place.

When they didn't answer his nonsensical question fast enough for his liking he swore, foully, viciously, and in multiple languages.

“ _Northerners,_ ” he spat, turning it into an epithet. “Do you know what that is?” he gestured toward a grayish smudge on the horizon, and there was definitely an edge of panic in his voice now.

“That is the winter's death wind! A sandstorm that will chew you alive. Why did you think none of the locals would go with you? You don't have time to reach the next town!”

The merchant siblings Dwalin was guarding began panicking, they had all heard stories of the sandstorms. The stranger looked from them, to the sandstorm, back over his shoulder where he'd been running to, and finally back to them.

“Follow me if you want to live,” he said, spinning his pony and urging it back into a gallop without checking behind him.

It might be a trap... but then again it might _not._ Now that Dwalin was looking at it that gray smudge on the horizon did not look healthy.

He urged his pony into a gallop along with the merchants, chasing after the stranger.

Dwalin would have thought, with how small the smudge was when it was brought to his attention, that they would have had time. It grew at an astonishing pace as they galloped, and by the time they reached a cleft in the rock, the air was thick and heavy with the potential of it. The ponies were skittish, and Dwalin could not blame them.

The stranger jumped off his pony and pulled it behind him into the crack in the rock that did not look like it would have room for them.

There must be more space in there – or so Dwalin hoped. He sent the merchants through first and took the last place.

The sand was beginning to rise by the time he made it through into a dimly lit cavern. The wind howled mournfully around the stone.

“Block the entrance!” the stranger ordered. He was beside Dwalin, small and lean, but shifting sandstone blocks across the entrance with surprising strength.

Dwalin joined him. He wasn't the best at stonework, but for something simple like this he was alright. He followed the other Dwarf's instructions, hefting stones into place. Sand was blowing in by the time they settled the final stone. The howling of the wind cut off, leaving just a few tiny cracks for grains of sand to worm their way through.

Finally Dwalin turned to take in the cavern. It had clearly begun as a natural cave, but had been improved upon since then. The ponies had ample room, at least. It was lit with just two low-burning oil lamps.

Dwalin's first worry was that there would not be enough air for them all, but the air did not feel still and stagnant. There must be ventilation somewhere.

Dwalin looked to the stranger, completely concealed in his robes with just his kohl-rimmed eyes showing. He was tapping at the sandstone blocks, being sure they were settled as well as they could be. His eyes were pale and bright, the color undefinable in the low light. Gold? Green? The tawny brown of the sandstone, or was that just a reflection?

“Dwalin, son of...” Dwalin began his introduction.

“I don't fuckin' _care,_ ” the stranger snapped back, jumping down from the stacked stones and stalking away. “Vulture bait, the lot of you. I don't need this.”

Dwalin watched the stranger grab one of the lamps and walk behind an outcrop of the stone to disappear from sight, and then went to help the merchant siblings care for the ponies.

The stranger was back quickly, with a heavy bucket of water for his pony and a brush. Dwalin waited until the other Dwarf was done grooming his pony before he approached.

“Where's the water?” he asked. No sense being polite if he would just throw it back in Dwalin's face.

The other Dwarf snorted, like he was going to argue, but then his eyes turned toward their tired ponies. He shrugged one shoulder, shaking his head to himself, and grabbed the empty bucket and the second lamp. He wordlessly led Dwalin through passages that were hardly more than rough cracks in the rock, down to a small well.

It was a _very_ small well, a little carved pool of water in the rocks. Dwalin could easily see the bottom.

“Will it be enough? Does it run dry?” Dwalin asked as he accepted the bucket and scooped up some water.

“I don't know.” the Dwarf answered, his arms folded uncomfortably across his chest. “It's always enough for a pony and I.”

“We'll be sparing with it, then.” Dwalin answered. There would be no bathing beyond sponge baths, no clothes washing. That wouldn't make the merchant siblings happy.

When they returned, the merchants were arguing about how they'd make up the day they were losing to the sandstorm, and the stranger laughed.

It was not a very kind laugh.

“The death wind lasts five days at least,” he informed them. “Ten's more likely.” While the merchant siblings were still gasping over the lost time, he continued. “You stay in this cavern with the ponies. _You_ can go get water.” He nodded to indicate Dwalin. “but any of you wander where you're not wanted, and anything could happen...”

A knife flickered through the stranger's nimble fingers for a moment. It was impossible to tell behind his veiling robes, but Dwalin would guess he was smiling at them, and that it was not a nice smile.

One of the merchants tried to argue that they could not be treated that way, but the stranger just shook his head.

“You're welcome to leave, if you don't like the rules.” he invited pleasantly, and left them.

.

After days of being confined with him, the stranger still had not given them another name to call him – nor did he call them anything but 'vulture bait'. It was aggravating, but Dwalin could not deny that they would not have survived the sandstorm.

The fact that the stranger was clearly not on the right side of the law, Dwalin had figured out quickly. Using the sandstorm to lose a pursuit, no doubt – and not for the first time – but Dwalin couldn't be too angry. If not for this hideout, and the stranger's offer, they would have died choking on sand and dust.

Dwalin wasn't sure why the stranger had made the offer. He didn't seem to like company, or want to get to know them, or want anything from them. A younger Dwalin might have chalked it up to the natural solidarity of Dwarves, but he'd lived too long and seen too much to count on that.

The stranger was extraordinarily quiet. They often wouldn't notice him sitting listening to their talk until he laughed at them. He had a sharp tongue and a quick wit.

“Would _you_ go?” Dwalin asked, when the stranger came up on Dwalin talking with the merchant siblings about the quest Thorin was putting together for Erebor – why Dwalin needed to get back to the Blue Mountains so badly. The merchants were certain it was suicide. Dwalin thought it was worth trying even so.

The stranger just laughed in answer.

The days wore on, with the unending wail of the sandstorm outside, and Dwalin chaffed at the wait. He was not made for patience. He paced, and practiced his axe forms. He would have played his viol, but his mood was not good for cheerful tunes and he knew mournful ones would only drag the merchants moods down further than they already were.

The sandstorm howled outside, and Dwalin slowly ran mad. He nearly punched the stranger when the smaller Dwarf surprised him while he paced down the one pathway he was allowed. The stranger sidestepped it neatly, his strange eyes very bright as he stepped almost too close to Dwalin for comfort.

“What are you doing?” the stranger asked, looking up at Dwalin. “What do you _need_? A drink? A fight? A fuck?”

“Not a drink,” Dwalin said. That would just make him worse, angrier and less patient if he was already in a bad mood. “Wouldn't turn you down for the rest.”

Dwalin had expected a fight, a good sparring match to use up his excess energy. The stranger nodded, reaching into the folds of cloth at the side of his face to drop away what covered the bottom of his face.

His face was narrow, with a long handsome nose and an enviably thick beard of smooth-gleaming black braids.

“I'm not bad with my mouth,” he offered, dark-rimmed eyes traveling hungrily up Dwalin's body as he licked his lips. His very pink and soft-looking lips.

Dwalin would like to think he wouldn't normally take a tumble with a Dwarf who's name he didn't even know – but the stranger had saved his and the merchant's lives, and Dwalin had cleaned himself up with a sponge bath just this morning, and he needed to burn off his energy _somehow,_ and he was a handsome Dwarf and he was offering.

“All right,” Dwalin said, and the stranger smiled. It was every bit as sharp and cocky a smile as Dwalin had suspected him of having.

He shoved Dwalin back against the wall and knelt in the sand – no preamble to a quick suck – his fingers making quick work of Dwalin's laces. He made a small pleased sound as he drew Dwalin's still-soft cock out, big despite not having caught on to what was happening yet.

When he'd said he wasn't bad with his mouth, that had been an understatement.

“Hammers and coal,” Dwalin groaned, grabbing at the rough wall. “Forges of Mahal...”

The smaller Dwarf's mouth was perfect – slick and tight and hot, with a clever tongue. The stranger moaned as he sucked, the extra vibrations only adding to the pleasure. Dwalin knew better than to try to fuck the other Dwarf's mouth... oh, but it was a challenge to stay still. He gently stroked the side of the smaller Dwarf's face with his fingertips in encouragement. Undefinable kohl-lined eyes smiled smugly up at him, lips spread around his cock.

It was too good a picture, and Dwalin's body was more than willing to channel all his excess energy and frustration into this. The stranger's mouth was too good in combination with his hands, nimble fingers gently cupping Dwalin's stones.

He did not last long.

“Durin's starry _crown,_ I'm...” Dwalin gasped warning, his entire body tensing and trembling. The other Dwarf moaned encouragingly, and Dwalin spent. He shoved his forearm into his mouth to bite to keep himself from roaring loud enough for the merchants to overhear or frighten the ponies, as the stranger sucked every last thought out of him with that perfect mouth.

Dwalin sank down to the sand as he tucked his spent cock away, his trembling legs unwilling to hold him upright against the wall any longer. The other Dwarf rocked back from him on his haunches, licking his reddened lips, pleased as a cat in cream.

Dwalin grabbed a handful of loose robes and dragged the other Dwarf forward into a kiss. The taste of his own musk was thick in the stranger's mouth, bitter, and Dwalin delved for it eagerly as the other Dwarf melted against him with a soft moan.

Would be rude not to repay a suck that good. Unforgivably rude not to watch the pleasure on that expressive face and pull the sounds of it out of him.

Dwalin began to tug at the stranger's concealing robes, trying to reach inside to find his skin, but the stranger batted his hands away.

There were some Dwarves who preferred not to be touched, but none Dwalin had ever been with. Anyone reluctant to be touched had had other reasons – worries he could usually lay to rest. Dwalin kissed him again, because the way he was responding to _that_ was positive.

“I promise... whatever you've got under those robes, I'll like it.” Dwalin murmured. He liked bearing men just as well as seeding men – and if the stranger happened to be a Dam masquerading as a Dwarf it wouldn't likely be all so different, would it? The bits would be familiar at least, even if she liked them touched differently.

“I can be gentle, if you like.” Dwalin promised, stroking down the stranger's back, because he was _definitely_ responding well to being touched outside his clothes, moaning against Dwalin and searching for his mouth to kiss again – deep and hungry, with rising heat.

“I want to do whatever makes you feel good.” Dwalin murmured, and the stranger laughed something that might have been a curse in another language. His dark-rimmed eyes were wide as he grabbed Dwalin's hand and guided it into his robes.

Dwalin couldn't see what he was doing, but the stranger tilted his chin back up when he tried to look. It wouldn't be the strangest request Dwalin had ever had. He kept his eyes firmly on the smaller Dwarf's face as he discovered a cock that was stone-hard and already leaking with pre-spending. It was a very nice handful, silky skin over an iron core, and Dwalin ran his thumb around the crown to spread the slickness around – pleased when the stranger shuddered and moaned.

Dwalin drew his hand back out of the other Dwarf's robes, not breaking eye contact as he licked a broad stripe up his palm, dampening it to soften the roughness of his callouses. The stranger had whimpered with the loss when he drew his hand back, but moaned in appreciation as Dwalin brought his hand back.

Dwalin kissed him and did not look as he stroked the smaller Dwarf, feeling how he responded. He obeyed occasional whispers of 'tighter' or 'slower' and watched as the smaller Dwarf flushed and shuddered with his pleasure. He was surprisingly pale, Dwalin realized – but maybe it was just that he kept himself covered all the time so the sun never knew him.

Dwalin did his best to catch all his seed when the stranger tensed and shook his way through his climax. The other Dwarf whined helplessly when Dwalin lifted his hand and licked his seed from it, never breaking eye contact.

His kiss was desperate heat melting into yielding softness as Dwalin answered it. They lay tangled up together on the sand in the little passageway.

“I liked that,” Dwalin said, when words seemed necessary again, and the stranger laughed as he tucked his cloth back into place over his face.

“This wasn't the plan,” he answered, but his tone was laughing and he didn't move from Dwalin's arms.

Dwalin shrugged. “Plans change. We have another week in here? We should do it again. A lot.” It would keep his mind off being caught in here with nothing to do.

“Mmm...” the stranger pondered, then patted Dwalin on the chest, “All right,” he answered, untangling himself and standing.

“Can you give me a better name to call you than 'stranger'?” Dwalin asked, and the other Dwarf laughed.

“Not in the cards, vulture bait,” he answered, winking as he sauntered off into a passageway Dwalin wasn't allowed.

.

The sandstorm raged outside, and the stranger was gorgeously insatiable. He liked surprising Dwalin in the passages of the rock at unexpected moments. He liked when Dwalin grabbed him and shoved him against the nearest wall to kiss him. He was all tense lean muscles but melted when Dwalin had him pinned. He was as clever with his hands as he was with his mouth – maybe moreso.

He didn't want to be looked at, but they worked around that. He tugged Dwalin around a corner from where the lamp was, so the light was too dim for anything but vague outlines and let Dwalin suck him off for the first time.

Dwalin _did_ wonder why he didn't want to be seen. A birthmark or a scar an old lover had mocked? An unfortunate tattoo? Until the most obvious occurred to him. The stranger was a criminal, and didn't want to be recognized.

Dwalin let it go. It was just a temporary arrangement, convenient for them both while they were trapped together. He sucked the smaller Dwarf's cock and let him keep his secrets, but when they were done and the stranger had sauntered away he inspected the stray hair that had snuck into his mouth as he worked.

The light wasn't the best, but it certainly wasn't a black hair to match his beard. More of a rich red.

And his skin was very pale.

Dwalin dropped the hair and shrugged, letting it go. It wasn't his business if the stranger dyed his hair. Lots of Dwarves did, especially out in the lands of men.

.

If the merchant siblings thought anything about how much time Dwalin spent away in the stone, they said nothing to him about it. Dwalin kept the ponies watered and cleaned up after them, and that's all they seemed to care about. They'd had to ration the fodder to make what they'd brought with them to feed the ponies last, but at least the ponies weren't starving.

And Dwalin played with increasing intensity and frequency with the stranger. One day he followed the Dwarf down a new passageway to a small room carved into the stone – with a big messy nest-bed of blankets and cushions.

The stranger grinned at him, and blew the lamp out.

Dwalin heard the soft sounds of cloth falling, and it was a completely bare Dwarf who stepped into his arms and began undressing him.

Dwalin went easily to the bed, comfortable in the cushions as the two of them kissed and rubbed all their bare skin all over each other for the first time.

“Would you fuck me?” the stranger asked, and Dwalin could only moan his answer. A tin of a smooth slick salve was fished out of somewhere and Dwalin was rolled onto his back, his cock generously slicked and the stranger straddling him.

He focused on keeping himself still as the smaller Dwarf eased himself down onto him, took him into the tight heat of his body.

“Oh, fuck...” the stranger moaned, curling over Dwalin to rest his head against his shoulder, “I want it so bad...” Dwalin rumbled his agreement, matching his thrusts to the stranger's cadence as he began to rise and fall, riding his cock.

“You're perfect. I'll fuckin' _kill_ you if you finish before me,” the stranger moaned, and that was not the most comforting thing for him to say.

“Won't be a problem,” Dwalin promised. Not with all they'd been getting up to recently. He'd last more than long enough.

He stroked his hands over all of the smaller Dwarf he could reach, thrust into the slick heat of him, listened to the sounds of his pleasure, and _enjoyed_.

.

Dwalin and the stranger were all tangled up together in his cushion nest, just sharing skin and breath and soft touches after coupling. Dwalin enjoyed it, even if the other Dwarf never let him have a lamp lit until after he was already dressed. He'd seen all of Dwalin more than once, and Dwalin had never seen more than the rare glimpses of his face.

He was mostly the feel of his body and a pair of kohl-lined pale eyes of an undefinable color to Dwalin.

“Ah...” the stranger said, and Dwalin paused in his stroking to listen.

“The wind changed,” he explained, snuggling in closer to Dwalin and reaching up to pull his face closer for a deep kiss. “I'll be gone in the morning.”

Dwalin pulled him closer instinctively, kissing him with something like desperation. He'd said it so matter-of-fact. This _thing_ between them had never been meant to last, but still the stranger was melting against him at the heat of the kiss. So perfect, how he responded to everything. If they kept at it a little longer, Dwalin's body might be convinced to give him another round tonight. One last round with the smaller Dwarf.

“Why did you take us in?” Dwalin asked, and the stranger shrugged in his arms.

“Dunno. Maybe I felt sorry for the ponies," he said. “Not their fault they were bought by vulture bait.”

Dwalin couldn't help his smile. 'Vulture bait' sounded affectionate in the stranger's mouth, now. “Why'd you decide to bed me?” he asked. Not like he'd have another chance to ask.

“Maybe I like big, scarred Dwarves who practice their axe-forms shirtless,” he answered. “...and maybe you were more than I expected...” he added quietly, but then he laughed and pulled Dwalin in for another kiss – hungry squirming against him and Dwalin definitely was going to be able to go for another round.

.

They were both tired when they finished pleasuring each other for the last time, and the stranger suggested Dwalin leave. He never had let Dwalin spend the night sleeping beside him, even though his nest was much more comfortable than Dwalin's bedroll. Dwalin waited for the other Dwarf to get himself dressed and covered, and lit the lamp.

He got himself dressed, and the stranger snuggled in close to his side.

“We were good together,” Dwalin said, and the smaller Dwarf made an agreeing sound.

“I'd be a fool to ask if I'd ever see you again,” Dwalin said quietly at the door.

The stranger chuckled, eyes sparkling. “Oh, I'll be seeing _you,_ ” he said. “The question is, will you see me?”

That was the last Dwalin saw of him. True to his word, he and his pony were gone in the morning – along with part of the merchant siblings' goods.

It was bad mannered, and criminal, but a decent price for their lives.

. .

Dwalin watched Nori across the campfire, and he was not _sure_. He'd been watching Nori for the week since the Company of Thorin convened in the Shire and he still was not sure. He saw nimble hands, and behind all that flashy hair he saw a narrow face with a handsome nose, and pale skin, and eyes that changed color with the light.

He was the right size, and he was the 'shifty brother' who's brothers spoke about the years he spent away from the Blue Mountains traveling the world.

Nori could be _him_.

But his voice was wrong. Nori had an accent of the Blue Mountains, when the stranger hadn't had an accent from anywhere and peppered his speech with curses from languages across the face of Middle Earth.

Still... there were some words, the way Nori said them, that tugged on something in Dwalin.

 _Familiar_.

His hair was a rich red-brown that could match the hair Dwalin had seen... or could not.

Dwalin was not sure.

Nori teased Dori by pretending he was going to teach Ori illegal skills, laughing as he danced out of his elder brother's reach.

The way he _moved_ was familiar, and the way he laughed - the twist of his lips...

But Dwalin wasn't sure. The only way he'd be sure was taking him into his arms. He'd know the feel of the stranger anywhere, but if Nori wasn't him...

He wouldn't likely appreciate being grabbed out of nowhere.

But if he _was_.

Dwalin had to know. He couldn't wait any longer.

He waited until Nori excused himself to take a leak, and slipped away from the fire to join him. He'd just ask if they might have run across each other somewhere, that's all.

Only, when he stepped around the big tree Nori had gone behind, Nori wasn't there.

There was a soft laugh behind him, and Dwalin spun. Oh, that was familiar, seeing eyes laughing at him when he'd been snuck up on. His eyes were different without the kohl, and those frankly impressive eyebrows had always been covered, but he was so familiar.

“I _know_ you,” Dwalin said, and Nori stepped into his arms. He was perfect and familiar and _right_ in Dwalin's arms, and all the uncertainty left him as he leaned down for a rough kiss that had Nori melting in his arms.

“Took you long enough, vulture bait.”

.

**Author's Note:**

> Now with art by Sparkle!  
> http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/85552529258/another-stuck-at-the-train-station-at-2am


End file.
